Star Trek XI -- "Not Your Average Pon Farr Story" -- Part 3 of 4
spoilers for "Amok Time", some dialogue taken from that episode; the rest of this should be posted sometime in the next few days
"Come on, Jimmyboy, it's almost over."
Part 1
Part 2
Not Your Average Pon Farr Story | PG-13 | 1023 words | 3 of 4
Jim could hardly think when they finally came to get him. Someone gave him a hypospray, and then he recognized Bones kneeling at his side, Spock standing a meter or so behind him. "Come on, Jimmyboy," Bones said, pulling him up from where he'd been crouched in a corner, rocking slightly to keep himself from springing up and attacking them. "It's almost over."
The frigid corridors were empty, and only Scotty was waiting for them in the transporter room, his face unreadable as he manned the controls. The surface of New Vulcan was delightfully hot when they beamed down, still too cool but at least it was better. They walked a short distance, Spock holding one of his arms, Bones the other, and then they were inside. Jim didn't take in any of his surroundings, focusing instead on keeping calm. He wanted--no, he needed to fight, to fuck, to do something; walking down the hall, even at the hurried pace Spock was setting, wasn't enough to keep him from exploding. He tightened his hands into fists at his sides, feeling the joints creak under the strain.
One corridor lead to another, then another, and then they were in a smaller room. Jim could feel the walls pressing in on him. This was wrong, all wrong. He heard people talking, but he only understood snippets--
"--incomplete bond must be broken if he is to survive--"
"--impossible for a Human to experience the effects of--"
"Clearly, that is not the case, if you will observe--"
"--must be recorded for the VSA data banks--"
"How can you even think about databases at a time like this!"
"--priority is the captain's life--"
Then weathered hands touched his face, and there was a presence in his mind, foreign and uncomfortable. This person was not his mate, why were they present? Jim pushed, mentally and physically, throwing the person out of his mind and back a few feet.
"Commander Spock, if I cannot access his mind, I will be unable to remove the bond."
There was pain against his neck, and then his mind cleared somewhat again. The unknown person was an older Vulcan, a healer from the robes he wore.
"Then bring Ambassador Selek," Spock said. "He can meld with the captain and break the bond."
"If the bond is due to previous contact with the ambassador's mind, then further contact will only complicate matters."
"Then I will do it," Spock said. He stood, if possible, even stiffer and straighter than usual.
"Is that safe?" Bones was still at Jim's side, a spent hypospray in his hand.
"That is irrelevant," Spock said. "If I can help the captain, I will do so."
"It would be the same," the healer said. "You are unbonded, and your mind is similar enough to the ambassador's that the captain's will seek to complete the bond with you. Then you will be drawn into Pon Farr with him."
"Wait, what?" Bones began, but Spock spoke over him.
"That is acceptable."
"Spock, what's going on?" Jim said, hating the fear and confusion in his voice.
"Leave us," Spock said to Bones and the healer. "I would speak to the captain alone." Two figures filed out of the room, and then Spock was kneeling in front of Jim. "Captain. Jim. Give me your hands." Spock took his hands and his cheeks went a delicate olive green, but Jim's head cleared, more than with the drugs. "There is much I must tell you."
And then he explained it all, the incomplete bond with Old Spock and Pon Farr and what would happen if Jim didn't bond or let the healer into his mind. He was dying, drowning in his own hormones and neurotransmitters, and by Spock's estimate there wasn't much time.
“It is a thing no out-worlder may know except those very few who have been involved,” he heard Spock say, in his ears and in his mind. “A Vulcan understands, but even we do not speak of it among ourselves. It is a deeply personal thing. We shield it with ritual and customs shrouded in antiquity. You humans have no conception. It strips our minds from us. It brings a madness which rips away our veneer of civilization.”
"You can't let yourself get dragged into this," Jim heard himself saying. And it was the right thing to say, even though part of him--most of him--wanted to throw Spock down on the floor and worship his body until he screamed. The feeling wasn't new, but now Jim really thought he might do it if Spock didn't move away soon. The lack of control he was feeling was terrifying in its intensity. "I don't want you tying yourself to me out of some sense of obligation or--"
"Jim," Spock interrupted, freeing one hand to press cool fingers to Jim's mouth. "If you do not want this, you must say so now. But I would not do this out of a sense of obligation, nor would it be merely to save your life. You are a dear friend, and would be an exemplary partner. Bonding with you might end your Pon Farr, or it might inflame us both, but it would not be something I would regret, no matter the outcome."
Jim didn't know what to say to that. But the control Spock lent him was failing, and he could feel the fires rising. "I can't hold on much longer," he said raggedly. "What do we need to do."
“It is quite simple, if you accept my offer.” Jim nodded. Cool hands moved from his fists to his face, cradling his jaw. "My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts..." Jim, he heard in his mind, parted from me and never parted, never and always touching and touched.
Parted from me and never parted, never and always touching and touched, Jim echoed.
“Ashayam,” Spock breathed, bringing his mouth to Jim’s.
And then they were falling. Jim was still burning, but he let the fires rage.
Feedback is better than chocolate.
Part 4
"Come on, Jimmyboy, it's almost over."
Part 1
Part 2
Not Your Average Pon Farr Story | PG-13 | 1023 words | 3 of 4
Jim could hardly think when they finally came to get him. Someone gave him a hypospray, and then he recognized Bones kneeling at his side, Spock standing a meter or so behind him. "Come on, Jimmyboy," Bones said, pulling him up from where he'd been crouched in a corner, rocking slightly to keep himself from springing up and attacking them. "It's almost over."
The frigid corridors were empty, and only Scotty was waiting for them in the transporter room, his face unreadable as he manned the controls. The surface of New Vulcan was delightfully hot when they beamed down, still too cool but at least it was better. They walked a short distance, Spock holding one of his arms, Bones the other, and then they were inside. Jim didn't take in any of his surroundings, focusing instead on keeping calm. He wanted--no, he needed to fight, to fuck, to do something; walking down the hall, even at the hurried pace Spock was setting, wasn't enough to keep him from exploding. He tightened his hands into fists at his sides, feeling the joints creak under the strain.
One corridor lead to another, then another, and then they were in a smaller room. Jim could feel the walls pressing in on him. This was wrong, all wrong. He heard people talking, but he only understood snippets--
"--incomplete bond must be broken if he is to survive--"
"--impossible for a Human to experience the effects of--"
"Clearly, that is not the case, if you will observe--"
"--must be recorded for the VSA data banks--"
"How can you even think about databases at a time like this!"
"--priority is the captain's life--"
Then weathered hands touched his face, and there was a presence in his mind, foreign and uncomfortable. This person was not his mate, why were they present? Jim pushed, mentally and physically, throwing the person out of his mind and back a few feet.
"Commander Spock, if I cannot access his mind, I will be unable to remove the bond."
There was pain against his neck, and then his mind cleared somewhat again. The unknown person was an older Vulcan, a healer from the robes he wore.
"Then bring Ambassador Selek," Spock said. "He can meld with the captain and break the bond."
"If the bond is due to previous contact with the ambassador's mind, then further contact will only complicate matters."
"Then I will do it," Spock said. He stood, if possible, even stiffer and straighter than usual.
"Is that safe?" Bones was still at Jim's side, a spent hypospray in his hand.
"That is irrelevant," Spock said. "If I can help the captain, I will do so."
"It would be the same," the healer said. "You are unbonded, and your mind is similar enough to the ambassador's that the captain's will seek to complete the bond with you. Then you will be drawn into Pon Farr with him."
"Wait, what?" Bones began, but Spock spoke over him.
"That is acceptable."
"Spock, what's going on?" Jim said, hating the fear and confusion in his voice.
"Leave us," Spock said to Bones and the healer. "I would speak to the captain alone." Two figures filed out of the room, and then Spock was kneeling in front of Jim. "Captain. Jim. Give me your hands." Spock took his hands and his cheeks went a delicate olive green, but Jim's head cleared, more than with the drugs. "There is much I must tell you."
And then he explained it all, the incomplete bond with Old Spock and Pon Farr and what would happen if Jim didn't bond or let the healer into his mind. He was dying, drowning in his own hormones and neurotransmitters, and by Spock's estimate there wasn't much time.
“It is a thing no out-worlder may know except those very few who have been involved,” he heard Spock say, in his ears and in his mind. “A Vulcan understands, but even we do not speak of it among ourselves. It is a deeply personal thing. We shield it with ritual and customs shrouded in antiquity. You humans have no conception. It strips our minds from us. It brings a madness which rips away our veneer of civilization.”
"You can't let yourself get dragged into this," Jim heard himself saying. And it was the right thing to say, even though part of him--most of him--wanted to throw Spock down on the floor and worship his body until he screamed. The feeling wasn't new, but now Jim really thought he might do it if Spock didn't move away soon. The lack of control he was feeling was terrifying in its intensity. "I don't want you tying yourself to me out of some sense of obligation or--"
"Jim," Spock interrupted, freeing one hand to press cool fingers to Jim's mouth. "If you do not want this, you must say so now. But I would not do this out of a sense of obligation, nor would it be merely to save your life. You are a dear friend, and would be an exemplary partner. Bonding with you might end your Pon Farr, or it might inflame us both, but it would not be something I would regret, no matter the outcome."
Jim didn't know what to say to that. But the control Spock lent him was failing, and he could feel the fires rising. "I can't hold on much longer," he said raggedly. "What do we need to do."
“It is quite simple, if you accept my offer.” Jim nodded. Cool hands moved from his fists to his face, cradling his jaw. "My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts..." Jim, he heard in his mind, parted from me and never parted, never and always touching and touched.
Parted from me and never parted, never and always touching and touched, Jim echoed.
“Ashayam,” Spock breathed, bringing his mouth to Jim’s.
And then they were falling. Jim was still burning, but he let the fires rage.
Feedback is better than chocolate.
Part 4